Valkyrie
by Nikki1212
Summary: She wore the blood of her enemies proudly and believed in the fate her Gods had chosen for her. And yet her Gods had led her far from her people, to those who carry the power of the Gods themselves. Her people called them demons-she knows them as Shinobi. Sakura-centric AU DL;DR
1. Omens

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

A/N: This will be a multi-chaptered fic that I will be updating whenever I have the time! Its inspiration comes from my obsession with the show _Vikings,_ and I wanted to incorporate their imagery into a fic with Sakura in it. There are a few OCs, but they will not be having major roles.

Pairing: Undecided.

 **-O-**

Over the moans of the dying and the sound of her breathing, she heard the beating of wings. Eyes the striking color of sea glass lifted to the sky as the thunderous drone of an approaching murder of crows hovered over them all.

The fading sounds of an ending battle sounded muffled and far away to her ears, as though she were listening from underwater, and all she could hear was the rapid pace of her heart and the distinct call of crows. Pupils dilate to better grasp the image of a figure obscured by birds—of hands clawing through earth to pull souls beneath grass fed by blood.

But when she blinked, she found herself alone, bathed in the blood of her enemies and standing amongst their corpses.

It began to rain, and the woman, no older than twenty five, tightened her grip around the hilts of the swords in each hand as she lifted her face to gaze at the heavens. The rain felt cold as it ran down her face in diluted red rivulets, and lips parted to offer silent prayers to the gods.

The prophecy left her uneasy and anxious, for all it foretold was death. It was unlike her to be phased by her visions, not when she was constantly exposed to death and chaos. She sheathed her weapons and began to walk away from where she had scarred the earth with the blood of young men and women.

Death was not something she believed she could get used to, but it was something she could accept. Her people relished in carnage, they celebrated the spilling of blood and only those who fell in battle could be found worthy of spending eternity with the gods. She knew it as well as she knew herself, as well as she knew her gods and the weight of a sword in her hands.

"Sister!"

Lifting a head of long pink hair at the call of her name, Sakura narrowed her eyes at her best friend. Aya had been Sakura's best friend for as long as she could remember, and where one went the other was sure to follow—be it battle or pleasure.

The flaxen haired woman leisurely made her way towards her and slung an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders.

"So, today was not the day, eh sister?" Aya picked at the dirt under her nails as though they were discussing the quality of stew rather than their own mortality.

"The Gods did not wish it so," Sakura's calm reply prompted a guffaw from her blonde friend.

"Well of course not, that ugly face of yours would surely affront the Gods!"

Sakura sighed but did not rise to the bait. She took Aya's traditional post battle taunting for what it was—relief for mutual survival. Her beryl eyes surreptitiously glanced over the form of the prattling woman beside her and while some lacerations were worrisome, none were alarming enough to prompt immediate medical attention. Sakura felt a small measure of pride for her blonde friends prowess on the battlefield—she did not know what she would do if Aya had left her to dine in the Divine Kingdom. She took stock of own wounds by subtly flooding her body with what her people called "magic," but she knew it as "chakra." She healed her small wounds and then grasped Aya's hand to send some chakra through their linked hands to heal her as a small courtesy.

Aya's voice faded out and her expression transitioned from joyful to skittish. Her larger hand squeezed the smaller woman's in worry, "You should not be doing this here, Sakura, it is too dangerous."

"Hush, Aya, it will only take a moment," It was no secret that her people despised chakra, despised the destructive force behind the wars that ravaged and destroyed their lands and left them to starve. But they did not know how amazing it could be, how it could be used to _save_! But Sakura was no fool, and she knew how fear would lend to violence when confronted with something one did not understand.

If anyone were to take notice of the minuscule green glow of their joined hands, Sakura would suffer.

She released the other woman's hand and began to walk away when a hand clasped her shoulder with enough force to spin her around. She met Aya's eyes unflinchingly, narrowed with a clenched jaw.

"I am serious, Sakura. If you had been seen you would be killed," her whispered admonishment served to irritate the pink haired woman more, and her lips thinned in agitation.

"Would you rather die from infection in petty wounds, or in battle?" she spat and grunted when a sudden pain bloomed across her cheek.

She held her face in shock as her friend retracted her hand to fist it in the stained front of her armored tunic. Angry gray eyes bordered by kohl and crimson held onto Sakura's eyes for a moment before she was thrust away.

"I would rather lose all sight than see you burned, and yet you forget that."

Aya's hands were fisted by her side as her chest heaved in anger, and Sakura felt shame grip her heart. Here was a woman she had grown with, who'd suffered and loved as she had, and she had callously undermined her love for her by needlessly placing herself in danger.

"I am sorry…I did not wish to upset you, sister."

Aya sighed and rolled her eyes, her lips pursing in mock displeasure, "You are always sorry, Sakura, apologize with sweets instead of words next time."

Sakura chuckled as her friend began walking away, generous hips swaying exaggeratedly. She gingerly felt her swelling cheek in amusement, wincing as the gentle sweep of her fingers stung the reddened flesh, but laughed whole-heartedly all the same.

"You hit like a girl, Aya!" she called at her friend's retreating back. She watched the blonde place her hands on her hips, throw her head back and laugh.

"Good!"


	2. Mei

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

A/N: Chapters will vary in length!

 **-O-**

They returned to their modest village carrying the corpses of their fallen. They shall be burned and sent to sea, where the gods would then pass judgment on their souls. They passed by grieving wives and mothers, passed husbands who cradled the mangled bodies of their wives in agony. Sakura averted her eyes, she did not like to bear witness to such personal emotion, did not want to be reminded of her failures, and she would pay her respects at the funerals.

As she walked further away from the conglomerate of people, a small man approached her. She recognized him as the son of the village seamstress, and as her eyes ran over his person, they unknowingly lingered on his injured leg. He shifted uncomfortably and she averted her eyes guiltily; he had chosen to run and was felled by an arrow, and she should not look at his shame.

"The earl has requested to speak to you and your sister as soon as you have made yourself decent," he said and then hobbled away at their affirmative.

She had wanted to laugh in his face and question why she could not attend him as she was, bloody and bearing the wounds of warfare. But Aya had placed a hand on her arm and shaken her head. Sakura spat at the man's retreating back; how ironic that a village comprised of blood thirsty warriors was led by a man who would readily send his friends to die and yet has never stood on a battlefield.

Aya tugged on her arm and with one last contemptuous glance, they made their way home. Sakura pushed open the wooden door of a modest cottage to walk into the main room and was accosted by the warm smell of baking bread and the tinkling sound of laughing children. A grin came to her face unbidden as she felt Aya push passed her to scoop one of the younger children into her arms and nuzzle her face into his soft hair.

"You could have your own son."

Aya placed the child down, tenderly sweeping her hand through his inky tresses and sighing as she met the hopeful eyes of the woman who had spoken.

She chuckled, skipping by the older woman, stopping only to press a hasty kiss to a wrinkled cheek, and made her way towards the baths.

"Now, if I were to have children, Grandmother, how would I find the time to meet with the handsome boat builder?" She questioned cheekily as she began to undress, disappearing behind the curtain that led to the bath.

The older woman placed her hands on her hips, "You could marry the boat builder and _then_ have sons!"

Aya gasped, affronted, and poked out her blonde head from behind the curtain, "A boat builder for a husband?! Do not insult me, Grandmother!"

And then she was gone to wash away the blood dyeing her blonde hair red, leaving both women in the main room shaking their head—one in exasperation and the other in amusement.

"And you? When shall you be getting married and bearing children?" She turned her sights on the other woman, who then smiled nervously and made her way towards the kitchen to pour herself a drink.

"Sakura!"

Sakura sighed, resigned to the conversation, and leveled her gaze on the woman before her. Grandmother Mei was a small woman, aged by a life of hardship and happiness, and though her stance was that of a warrior, her eyes held kindness and wisdom. Sakura felt a surge of affection for the woman before her, and offered her cup of water to the woman who had been toiling away in the household. She sat at the dining table as Mei drank, exhaling deeply as she unlaced her boots.

"I do not have time for children, Grandmother, there is much to do and I am not ready."

Mei clucked her tongue in displeasure and set the cup down on the wooden table, "I have raised you two since you were children, no smaller than the height of my knee, and many winters have passed since then."

She reached out for Sakura's hand, holding it in weathered fingers made soft by years of nurturing, "You will have 25 years this coming Spring, Sakura, and I fear that by the time you marry it shall be too late for you to carry on your name."

Sakura frowned as she followed the trace of Mei's finger along her palm, "It does not matter when I have children, for if I do, it is not my name they shall carry but that of my husband's."

She yelped when a swift hand cuffed her in the ear, her nose scrunching in petulance.

"That is not what I meant, girl, and you know it!"

Mei rose from her seat and Sakura followed with her eyes as she began to pick up after the many children than littered the modest home as she spoke.

"I remember the day they brought you to me," she paused and smiled gently at a red ribbon salvaged from beneath a cot, "you were so frightened, cowering behind the soldier's legs with such large eyes and my heart cried for you. I went to touch you, but then this little blonde child darted in front of you and slapped my hand away!"

Sakura giggled from behind her hand, Aya had always been so protective of her.

"It took me days to gain your trust, these poor war orphans who were found in the ruins of a village," Mei's face darkened in anger, "they say it was shinobi who had burned it to the ground, who slaughtered its inhabitants and left no one alive."

She spat the word _shinobi_ as if it were the foulest word in known language, as if the gods were going to smite her for merely speaking it, and Sakura felt trepidation churn in her gut. Mei moved to stand behind her, undoing braids and combing fingers through silken hair.

"And yet, against all the odds, these two children survived—and survive they did. You grew to be such strong women, such beautiful women, and have filled my heart with such joy."

Sakura placed her hand on top of Mei's own on her shoulder, smiling lovingly as she was surrounded by the comforting scent of her childhood.

"You are a fierce warrior, Sakura, but I fear you have forgotten how to simply be a woman."

Sakura sighed and moved away from Mei's hands and words. Aya had been in the baths long enough, and if she was still partaking in them then she had better make room. She turned to regard her care taker—her mother sans blood—and sent her a sad smile.

"Someday I will love again, Grandmother. But for now, I must be strong to survive."


	3. The Worm

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

 **-O-**

The smell of opium and sake curls around her face like a the caress of a lover, and Sakura resists the urge to cover her nose; but Aya lacks such inhibitions and pinches her nose in distaste.

"Must you make this place smell like a whore house, Hisao?" Aya growled under her breath as they pushed through sweaty bodies to make their presence known. Sakura bit her cheek in vexation as she stepped on feet and moved under arms to appear before their chosen earl. Or rather, the earl by circumstance. Said earl came into view and she felt her chest bubble in anger at the sight.

Hisao was a tall man, and yet he lacked the strength a man of his stature should have. He was skinny, terribly so, and if _she_ did not kill him then his addiction would. His oily red hair clung to the fingers of the woman beside him, unabashedly curling and pressing into his body as she was paid to do. Another slave woman ran her hands over his thighs, bending over and giving lecherous men a grand view of her backside.

Aya gagged beside her and her own lips pressed into a tight line. Hisao was a disgusting man and the only reason he was in power was because the previous earl had been poisoned and Hisao had been the one to put him out of his misery.

Upon sight of her unusual head of pink, Hisao callously pushed the slave women off of him and stepped from his throne. The women released a plaintive cry as he walked away, reaching for him in a show of devotion that made them pitiful. Their desire for freedom and power was obvious, as Hisao was an unmarried man who could have whoever he so chooses.

Except for who he desired most: Aya.

He clapped twice and the room dissolved into whispers and then complete silence. He waltzed towards the front of the room, stepping onto a pedestal made of wood and painted the color of Aya's eyes.

"Now that the Chosen Sisters have decided to grace us with their presence, we may begin," his voice was a cacophony of failures and resentment and Sakura did not wish to listen.

His eyes lingered on Aya and when she averted her gaze, he frowned and set his sights on her. He glared when Sakura bared her teeth—she was no one's second choice, especially not his. Hisao paced while he collected his thoughts, gnarled hand stroking a pitiful beard as he hummed to himself.

"I assume you all must know why we are gathered here," his assumption was met with blank stares—most angry at his blatant disrespect, others uncaring—as no one had been informed of the meeting's purpose. Hisao placed his hands on his chest, eyes widening in mockery and gasping theatrically.

"You mean to tell me you do not know?"

His eyes—eyes the color of shit, as Aya liked to say—cut to Sakura's own, and what she saw in their depths made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand in alarm. Dread pooled deep in her belly, made her forget herself and reach out to clutch at Aya's hand in reassurance. The blonde sent her a questioning glance, and Sakura discreetly shook her head.

Hisao shook his head as if terribly disappointed, and the burly man beside Sakura growled under his breath and shifted his weight in agitation. It seemed as if she and her sister were not the only ones who despised their leader…she took great joy in this knowledge, because anyone who enjoyed Hisao's presence was surely unwell.

Hisao clucks his tongue and waves his hand in dismissal, "No matter, we shall discuss that later," his eyes glint in a way that Sakura has come to recognize as greed, "I want to know the progress of my conquest. Please, one of you, step forth and give me good news."

He stands there, painted nails tapping on a jeweled belt, waiting expectantly for one of the warriors to come forward, and Sakura knows she hates him. She wants to say that had he been there he would know himself. She wants to ask how he could stand before them covered in jewels and gold as his people starve in the streets.

"Well?!" He bellows over the crowd that makes the man next to her chuckle—as though a snake were ordering the lion to bow before it.

When no one steps forward, he looks at her for answers and she grits her teeth. Her hands curl into fists tight enough to draw blood, and she steps forward.

"Lord Hisao," she begins and the name feels oily on her tongue, "the battle went well. We slaughtered the enemy, pillaged their provisions and drove them from their lands. We lost a dozen men, good warriors, and funeral arrangements shall be made with your blessing. Families must be compensated, sacrifices to the gods must be made, and we must honor them. Once that is done, we shall be able to expand your conquest."

Hisao waved his hand dismissively, bulbous nose scrunching in annoyance, "You know I care not for such matters, woman. Tell me, what of the treasure?"

Sakura felt her blood boil beneath her skin, felt her tightly controlled chakra flare beneath her skin in anger. How dare he? How dare he dismiss the souls of the men who fought and died for his goals, his greed? How dare he dishonor the gods?

She steps forward, hands twitching to wrap around his neck, and warns him, "If you do not do as I say, Lord Hisao, you will keep them from entering the Kingdom of the Gods. And they will be angry with you."

Hisao rolls his eyes at her warning, chuckling in the face of her counsel, and mocks her, "Why, I am almost a god myself, _Sakura,_ they would not bring harm to such divinity!"

She grits her teeth at such conceit, at the way he says her name, feels the heavens churn above her in anger and says, "Careful, _Hisao,_ you anger the gods with your vanity. They do not take mockery lightly."

Hisao's eyes widen in fear, and then anger, rushing forward to grasp the collar of her shirt in a shaking fist. Aya steps forward threateningly, but stops short when Hisao's guards do the same. They both know they would not survive the carnage that would follow if they were to attack—they were strong, but not enough.

"Enough of your foolish talk of Gods," he growls in her face, his hot breath fanning over her face, "Tell me of the treasure!"

Sakura snarls and shoves him away from her. "There is no treasure," she spits, "you sent young men to die for wheat and dirt!"

Hisao stands stunned for a moment, the silence that follows is heavy and stifling; and then Hisao throws his head back and laughs. And he laughs and laughs until he is bent over his knees gasping for breath. The villagers assembled in his hall stand silently.

"How unfortunate," he says as he wipes a tear from his eye, "but I have better news!"

Sakura feels her heart beat stronger with hatred for this man, and steels herself for what is to come. Hisao's good news were almost always bad, but he was incapable of hurting her. He could send her out to die, but she would survive. He had killed her lover, and she had survived. He had done his worst, and she had lived.

But as his greatest detractor, Hisao would always try to hurt her and would always find a way.

"I have decided to marry!"

His declaration was met with gasps, and then whispers. Hisao was a notorious womanizer—of whores—and he had refused to take a wife since his ascension as earl nearly two years prior.

He nodded his head sagely, smiling as though he had blessed them with a God's favor.

"And I have chosen my wife!"

Beside Sakura, Aya stiffened. The dread in Sakura's belly threatened to appear before her, and her jaw clenched. The slave women behind Hisao leaned in expectedly, each hoping that the woman he chose would be one of them.

Sweeping his silk robed arm over the crowd, he extended a hand towards Aya.

"Aya, my dear, come stand beside your betrothed."

Aya shook her head mutely, stepping back in abject horror and lips parting in shock. Sakura knew then, as well as she knew her gods and that her hair was pink, that she hated Hisao and wanted him dead.

She stepped in front of her blonde haired friend—sister—and looked down at her nose at the worm that was Hisao.

"No."

She was met with the sound of Hisao's cruel laughter, but was then shoved aside by Aya.

"You cannot do this!" Aya exclaimed angrily, unshed tears brimming eyes the color of a tumultuous sea, "I am a free woman! I can marry whomever I choose!"

Hisao shook his head in false sympathy, sighing as though it took great effort to speak to commoners such as them.

"That is where you are mistaken. You come from _nothing_ ," and his lips curled in cruel pleasure, "you and your sister were found amongst rubble— _orphans_ —and were raised by an old woman who cares for orphans and has _nothing_."

Sakura decided then that she would rip out his throat with her teeth if she could.

Hisao tutted and removed the crown from his head—a mockery of the previous earl who insisted he be equal to his followers—to buff the jewels embedded there.

"Besides," he says with a cruel smile and locks eyes with Sakura's blazing green, "I am the earl, I can do whatever I want."

Hisao turns in a flurry of silk robes and walks away, slave women in tow and singing his name. He pauses midstride and then twists to flippantly say, "Oh, and Aya, our wedding is in a fortnight," and then adds as an afterthought, "and you may not see that boat builder you are so fond of. He is dead."

And then the doors to his chambers shut behind him.

The silence left in his wake is suffocating, as people find themselves unable to tear their eyes away from the woman whose freedom has been essentially torn from her.

Sakura grabs a stunned Aya by the crook of her elbow and begins to drag her away from the gathering. She sees how Aya is breaking, how her world is crashing and falling beneath her feet. But she will not let the others see, she wants them to see Aya as they see her on the battlefield—fierce and courageous.

"Not here, sister," she says lowly and pushes through sweaty bodies and doors and trees and steps over roots until they come to a part of the forest they had chosen as _theirs_.

Aya drops to her knees on familiar dirt and wails, and Sakura is reminded that most snakes are poisonous.


	4. Threads

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

 **A/N: I apologize for any grammatical errors and inaccuracies ! This chapter is super short.**

 **-O-**

For the next week, Aya drifts through the halls of their longhouse like a ghost, never staying in one area for too long before the pain in her heart consumed her. It pained Sakura to see her once strong willed friend be so disheartened and miserable but there was nothing she could do.

Besides killing Hisao, that is.

Sakura stored the thought for later and she watched Aya, seated by the fire, slowly comb her fingers through her luxuriously long hair as she gazed blankly into the flames. Frowns and grimaces had become permanent fixtures to her lovely face, as she was constantly torn between sadness and anger. She looked hollow, as if it were possible for someone to be alive and yet not living. Sakura chewed her lip in thought as she observed the slow movements of her best companion; she was suspicious of Aya's relationship with the boat builder from the start. She had seen them glance at each other longingly—tenderly—from afar in the marketplaces. She had seen the warm joy that had lit Aya's face whenever she quietly returned from her nightly excursions to the docks. Every night she'd smell of grass and sea water; and every night, Sakura would stay her tongue in the face of such blatant adoration.

It did not matter to Aya that the man was a slave, it did not matter that he had nothing to offer her, she liked— _loved_ —him and he made her happy. And Sakura would never keep Aya from happiness.

But now it seemed that happiness was far from Aya's own grasp.

Unwilling to gaze upon her sister's suffering any longer, Sakura stands in a flurry of skirts and walks out the door with a particular destination in mind.

Aya does not notice and continues to look forlornly into the fire.

 **-O-**

Sakura crosses the threshold of a small cottage in the outskirts of her small village. She sweeps the curtain—made of bones and cloth—aside, removes the cover her hood provides, and inhales the strong smell of herbs that curls around her face. As she walks further into the dimly lit home, she discards her cloak, then her shoes, and lastly her dress.

She stands naked in the center, her features accentuated by the glow of the fire, and kneels. Sakura's hands fold in her lap, her chin juts out in pride, and she is not afraid. She is not ashamed, she is bare for her gods to see, and she waits.

An errant wind sails through her unbound locks, caresses her face and puckers her skin, and when she opens her eyes, there is a man seated before her. His form is enshrouded by a heavy cloak, leaving only his hands and the lower half of his face visible. Sakura knows not to grimace in his presence, knows to steel her stomach in the face of such grotesque features, and so she lifts her eyes and focuses on his blackened lips.

They are sewn shut with thick, decaying threads; each entry point surrounded by angry skin and he does not speak. He lifts his hand, the tips of his long, withering fingers pointed by blackened nails, and caresses a lock of rosette hair.

 _"Sakura,"_ he says through the threads that bind his lips, and his voice is the sound of rotting corpses and angry souls.

"Wise one," she greets in return, her voice low with reverence. Her hands tighten in her lap, and she suppresses the urge to shudder when his fingers run down the length of her arm.

 _"The Gods see you and welcome you. What answers do you seek, my child,"_ his words are low and weathered as his blind eyes trace the path his hand makes down her lightly scarred skin.

Her lashes lower in deference to his question, and though she knows what exactly she had come for, she struggles to put her thoughts into words. Each time she visits, she feels humility—and dread—in the face of such a being: He who does not have a name, He who foretells prophecies, He who hears the words of Gods.

 _The Seer._

Sakura's mouth pulls into a grim line and speaks, "What will become of my sister?"

The Seer tuts, rubs his fingers as though feeling the texture of dirt, and says, _"The Gods do not see her in their Kingdom."  
_  
And the hairs on her neck stand on end, because the Seer speaks in riddles and circles, and his words could mean _anything_.

"Then what do the Gods see?" She pushes his vision, implores him with her eyes to abate her fears and she watches as his shoulders quake with laughter.

 _"They see many things, girl; they see flowers withering in the spring and blooming in the winter, they see the Moon and the Sun colliding as the Earth struggles to keep them afloat while crows watch from the trees. They see many things, but that is all I have heard."  
_  
Sakura's brow furrows and her mouth opens to question his words, but he offers her the palm of his hand and she knows her visit is over. Her mouth pinches in displeasure and her eyes flutter shut when she leans over to broadly lick the sallow flesh.

When she opens her eyes, she finds she is alone with the lingering taste of ash on her tongue.

Sakura dresses quickly and pretends not to feel bothered by the Seer's words.


	5. The Sorrow

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

 **A/N: This chapter is super long, and it explains what happened to the previous Earl before Hisao. I know some people don't like OC's, but their roles in this story are short. Also, I'd like to mention that when imagining my OC, I thought of Ragnar from Vikings because I love him. Even when he is a big whore. I recommend listening to the show's second season soundtrack while reading this! It's super badass and sets the mood.**

 **-O-**

The moon is at its highest in the night sky when Sakura nestles into the furs and quilt on her bed; but it is long after that when her worries lull her to sleep. She dreams of crows pecking the eyes of warriors under a blood moon, of foxes frolicking in meadows and wolves howling mournfully in the midst of tombs. She dreams of ships capsizing in a grand sea dyed red, and she starts awake to a hand hovering above her head.

Her hand quickly grasps the blade from under her pillow and holds it over the thin skin under the offender's beard, panting and licking sweat from her lips. Sakura's wild eyes flicker around the room then find those of the man poised above her with his hands open by his side.

She lowers her blade when she recognizes him to be Jirou, the eldest son of the butcher. He smiles apologetically at her, his once charming grin marred by a missing tooth, and then brings his finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence.

"Come, Sakura," he whispers by her ear as he helps her stand, "There is much to discuss, your sister has already been awoken."

Sakura resists the urge to ask questions, instead trusting her own gut instinct and feeling the importance of the situation in the air. She dresses quickly and quietly makes her way through the cold home until she finds Aya.

Aya meets her own questioning expression with a lifted brow and a shrug, all the while braiding her unbound hair while the woman sent to wake her laces her boots. Sakura gingerly hugs Aya and her dearest friend tenderly squeezes back in return.

It is the most life she has seen in her since the day in the woods where she had broken down and cursed the Gods. Sakura bites the inside of her cheek when they part and watches Jirou speak silently to Aya as she straps her sword to her leather belt.

She welcomes the change; as even confusion and muted interest is better than despair. The blonde woman walks towards her silently and takes caution to avoid creaky floor boards. Her tunic is wrinkled, her leather bodice armored with whalebone and steel, and she looks as though she is ready for battle. Aya's eyes rake down her form and Sakura knows she looks the same.

"Do you know what is happening?" Aya asks in a soft dulcet and Sakura shakes her head. Her friend's lips thin into a grim line and her eyes glance towards Jirou who waits for them.

"He said there is a meeting in the Old Woods between the clan leaders," and her voice lowers gravely, "Only those that remain loyal to Ryuu shall be there."

Sakura sucks a harsh breath through her nose, and feels it strike her heart as it opens old wounds. Aya's eyes pity her, so she pivots on the heel of her foot and quickly makes her way outside. Jirou and the others follow close behind her until they are far deep into the woods that surround their settlement.

The blossomed haired woman grinds her teeth and wills the traitorous tears brimming her eyes to disappear. And yet her heart does more weeping than her eyes ever could.

 **-O-**

Ryuu had been the previous Earl to their settlement; he had been kind, he had been fair, he had ruled honorably, and he had been the only man Sakura had ever loved.

She steps over foliage and fallen logs as they transverse deeper into the woods until they cannot see the lights from their homes—until all they hear are the songs of crickets and the calls of owls. Soon, they come upon a large gathering standing before a fire, each person sending her sympathetic looks and she finds that she can't take it.

Sakura finds the tree farthest from the gathering, leans against it, and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes as she releases a shuddering breath. It has been years, and still the wound feels fresh. Ryuu was the Earl after their previous corrupt Earl Michio, and had ascended to power through a challenge by combat. She had watched from the sidelines as he—always the better warrior—had bested the older man. She watched as he thrusted his blade and disemboweled Michio, watched as he wiped the entrails from his face and smiled victoriously through bloodstained teeth.

She remembers how he had allowed Michio's widow to be burned with him, how the woman had screamed and cried for her husband even as her flesh melted from her bones. She remembers how Ryuu had watched the entire thing unflinchingly with striking blue eyes until the end, how she had done the same.

But what she remembers most is later finding him standing by the charred pyre, gazing somberly into the dying embers. Night had since fallen, and the glow of the torch set by his side had bathed his features in an ethereal glow. She had been struck then by how handsome he was, and though she had always been attracted to him, his power had always held more appeal.

Ryuu was strong, Ryuu was steadfast, Ryuu was invincible. But he was also human, and Sakura realized this as she watched from hooded eyes as he tilted his head back to offer a prayer for Michio and his wife. When he stood and turned, his braided hair swinging behind him, his brows had lifted at seeing her. She only bowed her head in respect and then made her way to the pyre to offer her own prayers, trying hard to ignore his lingering presence behind her.

When she was done, she was surprised to find him still watching her curiously with a small smirk. She remembers fighting the flush running its course up her neck, and averting her eyes shyly. She had only been 21 years old then—virginal and naive—whereas Ryuu was four years her senior and experienced. Sakura grit her teeth as she felt his eyes run down her form, her previous shyness forgotten in the face of such unabashed leering. She may have been inexperienced in the way Ryuu was, but she was not some piece of meat to be ogled. Her temper reared its ugly head when a lascivious grin curled his lips and she was faced with his ever present arrogance.

 _"Sakura,"_ her name rolled like wine off his tongue and she discreetly rolled her eyes, "What brings you to these parts?"

She gave him the most dumbfounded look, as it was obvious by her prior actions that she had come to pay her respects—for Michio's widow, of course. Did he think her vapid? Sakura crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unimpressed, and her jaw clenched as he began to chuckle. _Was he mocking her?!_

"Of course, of course," he drawled good naturedly as he began to slowly circle her still form, "You are not stupid, you never were."

He came to a stop behind her, and she was so hyper aware of his presence that she resisted the overwhelming urge to step away. The toes curled in her boots belied her nervousness and excitement at being so near to him, but her outward expression gave little indication of how much he affected her.

"Do not mock me, Ryuu," there was a clear warning in her low voice, and she nearly jumped when he placed his large hands on her shoulders.

"Now, Sakura, why would I dare mock such a fierce warrior as yourself? I hope you know that I hold you in such high regards."

His breath ghosted over the shell of her ear and a pleasant shiver ran down her spine. He was right, she _wasn't_ stupid, so she knew very well what his intentions with her were—what he meant to do by showering her with praise.

She therefore stepped away from him, because she was _not_ stupid, and she would not fall prey to his charms. When she had been younger and more prone to chasing after foolish boys, perhaps she would have willingly played along. Ryuu's charming words held truth, however, as Sakura was highly respected amongst her people for being an incredible warrior; but she was surprised that Ryuu had even noticed. She had always endeavored to fight far away from him, as she found him too much of a distraction during a fight. He was all fluid sinew and grace, his movements strong and beautiful. While she...she was brutish, barbaric, and graced with unnatural strength. But whenever she fought near him, her eyes always had strayed to his amazing skill and focused entirely on him and him alone.

Needless to say, being near him was not wholly beneficial to her survival on the battlefield.

But one day, when she had been 17, Ryuu's younger brother had died on the battlefield. She, by chance, saw Ryuu's anguished face at seeing the blade through his brother's chest, saw him falter when the light in his eyes faded forever, and saw an enemy fighter take advantage of his distraction. She had been across the field, the enemy too close to Ryuu, and he too focused on cradling the broken body of his kin.

But her heart had cried out for his safety—for his survival—so fiercely that one moment she was sprinting towards him—dodging blades and bodies as she went—and the next moment she was slamming her fist into the back of the enemy's head.

She hadn't known how she'd moved so quickly at the time, but she had continued defending Ryuu until he stood with an angry roar and began to cut down everyone in his way with swords held in both hands. Sakura watched him cut a bloody path in the enemy ranks farther and farther away from her until she could see him no longer.

She continued to fight until there was no one left, and when she was alone, she searched for the body of the man who had tried to kill Ryuu. And her jaw had dropped, because the man _should_ have been knocked unconscious, but instead she found him _decapitated_ , the tissue and muscle in his neck looking as though his head had been ripped from his shoulders. She stared at the gruesome corpse, then stared at her shaking hands, and for a moment she was afraid of _herself_.

But then Ryuu had rushed back to his brother's corpse and she—and her fear—was swallowed in the crowd that followed. Sakura was sure he was not aware that she had saved his life.

And she was sure that her attraction to him ran deeper than she would have liked to admit.

But that was then, and now he had moved to stand before her, his arms crossed to mirror her own. There was still a smirk present on his handsome face and she once again rolled her eyes at his arrogance.

"And?" She snapped, annoyed at his blatant staring, "Is there something you need from me?"

At this, Ryuu raised both eyebrows in mock surprise and his lips curled into a large smile as he stepped back.

"Why, Sakura, do not be so hostile," he said jubilantly, "I am merely informing you that you are widely respected by many, including myself!"

Sakura's petal pink brow lifted in bemusement, her mouth down turning into a cautious line. She couldn't tell if he was being genuine, and perhaps Ryuu had noticed that, because he then shoved his hands into his pockets as his grin faded.

"Nonetheless, I ask why you have come to offer Michio peace when you so obviously detested his existence?"

"Michio?" Sakura scoffed, "No, I prayed to the Gods for his _widow's_ peace. Emiko was a kind woman and it is a shame she loved such a mongrel."

She started when Ryuu's smooth laughter met her ears, he shaking his head in amusement.

"Of course! The widow! Yes, I prayed for her as well," he drawled, "But I also asked the Gods for Michio's safe passage into their Kingdom because he had died honorably in battle."

 _"Well, yes, that too..."_ Sakura mumbled under her breath and began to walk past him, tired of such nonsensical chatter...even if it was with a man she wanted. She was surprised when he stepped in front of her with a new smile pulling his lips.

"Now Sakura," he began, his words smooth and velvety, "because I respect you so, would you drink wine with me to celebrate the _widow's_ life?"

Sakura, of course, could not refuse the Earl, so she found herself giddy and heady with wine a few hours later, telling stories of battles won and friends lost while lounging around the fire. Ryuu listened intently and told his own stories, but when he mentioned a guardian the Gods had sent to watch over him when his brother died—who had protected him from harm—Sakura could only smile softly at his ignorance.

At some point throughout the night, they found themselves draped across the furs on his bed, humming songs and giggling softly. She was floating on air in the presence of such a contradiction of a man. Ryuu who was all deadly power, Ryuu who was kind and capable of many things. She felt him trace his fingers down the scars of her arm, and puzzled over the frown on his face.

"A woman as beautiful as you should not bear these scars," he murmured solemnly.

Sakura, emboldened by the wine in her blood, lifted a finger to trace the dark vines tattooed onto the shaved sides of his head. The dark blonde stubble tickled her fingers, but she was pleasantly surprised to note their soft texture.

"A man as handsome as you should not have gotten these on your head," she intoned, "Mine are not as visible."

Confused, Ryu's brow furrowed. But he did not move away from her tracing fingers, nor did he remove his own intense gaze from the myriad of scars painting her arm.

"Why not?" He asked quietly, "They are my mark of a warrior."

"And these are mine."

His hand paused in their tracing and his eyes—bluer than the sky and deeper than the sea—focused so intensely on her face that it almost took her breath away. But wine made men weak and women bold, so she traced her fingers down the sides of his well-kept beard. She felt the course hairs and then his smooth skin, felt the muscles in his jaw twitch when her fingers curled beneath his jaw and her thumb brushed over his full bottom lip.

They were soft and she followed her thumb's movement with her eyes, unaware that they had crossed into territory that was wholly unfamiliar to her. Sakura's breath seized in her throat when Ryuu's lips parted to suck on her thumb, his eyes watching her, and a fire burning low in her belly.

She must have made a noise in her surprise—a mewl, a moan, _something_ —because the next thing she knew, Ryuu was on top of her, his lips covering her own heatedly, and she was uncaring of all prior objections. She tasted the wine on his tongue, smelled it on her skin wherever he kissed and licked her.

Soon they were a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing, her skirts pulled over her head and casted away. His hands roamed every inch of her and his mouth followed their path. She remembers clenching his strong set of shoulders as he left spots of blazing fire on her skin; she remembers his fingers parting her most intimate of places and losing herself in feelings she had never known.

Sakura lost herself in him—in the sensation of feeling full and complete—and she loved him.

She loved him by the glow of the fire, she loved him on the furs near his bed, she _loved_ him and pretended he loved her too.

And so their relationship continued as such: she would meet him and love him until they both fell from their perch in the clouds, and she would pretend that he loved her in return. This continued on for quite a while: Sakura pretending that Ryuu held her in his heart, and he exploring her previously untouched body.

Until one day, when she was 22, Ryuu asked her to rule eternally at his side. His expression was adoring and hopeful as he asked her to become his wife, bear his children, and be the only woman he would ever have; and Sakura knew then that she had never needed to pretend.

He had been the one to tell her what her strange power was, and he had been the only other of her kind that could use chakra. Ryuu had kept her secret, had loved her and taught her how to wield it even as he knew the severity of their actions.

But before they could get married, before she could continue her wonderful life with this man she so fiercely loved, Hisao had appeared.

Her love, her life, her dreams were destroyed because of one gutless man.

Hisao had somehow poisoned Ryuu's food and drink, had been poisoning him since he appeared in the village, and had been poisoning others as well to make it seem like a plague. And Sakura, Ryuu's dear love, could do nothing about it when it was discovered. Because while she could heal, she did not know how to extract poison from the body. Her methods of healing were barbaric, unrefined, and too unskilled for something so delicate. So she watched her lover become sick, watched a once beautifully strong man become wan and a shell of his former self. And she could do _nothing_ but sit by his side, clean his messes and attempt to feed him.

Until the one day he barely had strength to lift his withering hand to caress the soft skin of her cheek, and she lifted it to hold it there for the first time.

And he told her to kill him.

She pulled back in abject horror, shocked that he would ask her to do such an awful thing, and she shook her head mutely as he begged her to reconsider.

"I am dying," Ryuu had said, "I do not want to die like this, Sakura. I want a warrior's death; I want to be with my brother."

Because their people believed that those who died in battle would dine with the Gods and live in eternal happiness. That they—the most courageous of warriors—would be the ones to save the world once the time for Armageddon came. And Sakura knew then what she had to do.

There was an impending raid the next day where they would invade a neighboring settlement that had challenged their own. It was an opportunity to fulfill Ryuu's last request, and she would go with him to see it through. Yes, she would fight at his side for one final time. So she had kissed his lips with tears in her eyes, and promised him that he would see his brother again.

That night, Aya held her as she wept and wailed to the Heaven's.

The next day, they had set out at a snail's pace to accommodate her dying lover and reached the dimly lit rival settlement at dusk. They sent out messengers to warn the Earl that they would meet him in battle in a clearing close by, and they had returned one man short and a clear message.

 _I accept your challenge, and yours is the first death._

They met at the clearing at dawn, two rival forces staring each other down in palpable hatred. Sakura held Ryuu's thin hand in her own as she watched mere _boys_ tremble at the sight of them. There was a war cry from somewhere behind her and the next thing she knew they were charging.

She fought by Ryuu's side for a long while, slowly feeling fatigue settle into her body, when they were separated by two men who drove her farther and farther away from him. She fought with newfound desperation, her eyes glued to his tiring form the entire time. Sakura watched from afar as an arrow struck through him, watched him fall to his knees and take a rattling breath.

And she watched Hisao catch him as he fell, cradle him, and lower him to the blood soaked grass.

She watched him plunge a blade through Ryuu's heart.

There was a stillness, and then there was a loud noise in the air, an agonized keening that drowned out everything else; and it took Sakura a moment to realize that it was the sound of her screams. She punched through men, heedless of how limbs and chest cavities exploded at her touch, to make her way to him.

She kicked Hisao out of the way, but when she bent down to touch Ryuu, she found herself staring into eyes devoid of all life. Her voice caught in her throat, her hands shaking and stuttering as she reached to touch his _beautiful_ face, and her features twisted in anguish. Sobs and sorrowful denials spilled from her lips; never before had she felt such loss and grief and it felt like _blades piercing through her chest_. She was oblivious to the danger around her as she cried out in woe, her descent into hysterics becoming clear. Sakura clumsily reached for Ryuu's hand and pressed it to her face; it was still warm, but rapidly cooling.

She rocked back and forth, crying his name over and over again, until someone forcibly ripped her away from her lover's corpse. Screaming, she turned around to lash out at whoever _dared_ to separate her from him, but found herself staring into Aya's fearful eyes. Her blonde friend shook her, shouted at her to get herself together, for there was still a battle raging around them. With one last shake, she reminded her that Ryuu would have not wanted her to die by his side.

But Sakura had wanted him to die by hers, had wanted to be the last person he saw before he joined his brother and the Gods.

And so she choked down her sobs, her grief, and was merciless until she stood alone among corpses. Only then, did she allow herself to stumble back to Ryuu's body and clutch him to her bloodstained chest.

But her misery did not end there.

For when they returned back to their settlement, she carrying Ryuu's broken body in her arms, Hisao announced to all those present that he would be the new Earl. And she had stood frozen, her love's rotting corpse in her arms, as those loyal to Hisao confirmed that he had been the one to bid Ryuu farewell into the afterlife. Her heart's beating was thunderous in her ears as he then relayed tales of deceit and treachery in Ryuu's name, glorifying his own position and tarnishing his memory.

She stood rooted to her spot as the people cried out in anger, demanding that his body be fed to the pigs, and she growled like a feral wolf when those brave enough attempted to take him from her. But then Hisao calmed the crowd, and then declared that Ryuu's body would be laid to rot in the Old Woods without a funeral or prayer.

Fury and horror filled her heart and widened her eyes at his order, as it surely meant that Ryuu would _never_ be able to be with his brother if they didn't offer his soul peace and follow the proper procedures. In her moment of shock, Ryuu's body was ripped from her weakening arms, and she was pulled away from him even as she fought and screamed.

She screamed his name, watched as Aya was also subdued, and then the both of them were knocked unconscious. The last thing she saw before her eyes shut was her love's body being spit on and desecrated.

When she awoke, she was lying in a puddle by the stables while her sister silently combed mud from her dirty blonde hair. And once again, Aya held her as she quietly wept—her sorrow muted by the drizzle and thunder of an oncoming storm.

Sakura never saw Ryuu again.


End file.
